


Apfelstrudel

by hyperion



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperion/pseuds/hyperion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames eats in bed. Shots fired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apfelstrudel

Arthur ground his teeth, reading the morning newspaper in bed. The telltale crispy sound of bitten pastry came again, and Arthur’s eye twitched. The noise caused by every bite seemed impossibly magnified in the hotel room, and Arthur was three bites away from pulling his gun when he heard:

“Omnomom.”

“OUT! OUTOUTOUT!” Arthur shouted, tossing the newspaper away and shoving Eames out of the bed.

Eames tumbled over the side in a flurry of crumbs, bed sheets, and tattoos, squawking in alarm. Arthur was crouched on the mattress, like a gorilla ready to defend its territory. A shaky hand rose out of the sheets, clutching a half-eaten apple strudel. “Safe!” Eames crowed triumphantly. Eames wrestled his way out of the sheets, keeping the strudel aloft to prevent it from being squashed.

“Go eat your breakfast at the table,” Arthur ordered, pointing to the kitchenette.

“But the table isn’t a memory foam mattress and it doesn’t have you to keep it warm for me.”

Arthur pointed at the table emphatically again. “I’m tired of sleeping and fucking in crumbs, and there’s no way that strudel isn’t flaking off into the bed.”

Eames tilted his head, considering it. “Obviously, I cannot reasonably counter your argument using words, so I must resort to this.” He smooshed the apple strudel against Arthur’s chest, rubbing it in.

Arthur shuddered in rage. He made a grab for Eames’ wrist, but Eames was thinking more clearly and was able to catch Arthur’s hand, shoving it out of the way. He dove in for Arthur’s chest, and Arthur’s free hand grabbed Eames’ hair, but his grip relaxed a little when Eames began to lick and nibble the smashed strudel off his chest.

In a matter of seconds, Arthur was on his back in the crumb smattered sheet, Eames on top of him. “I hate you,” he sighed. As Eames’ mouth cleaned off Arthur’s nipple, Arthur added, “A lot.”


End file.
